Explicit Mox Violence
by onehundredpercent
Summary: Dean Ambrose wants to be closer to CM Punk. Punk is obsessed with Jon Moxley. Dean isn't that guy anymore, but can he be for Punk? CM Punk/Dean Ambrose SLASH oneshot, Top!Mox and bottom!Punk. He's called both Dean and Mox in this. Hopefully not too confusing. Warnings: Blood, rough sex, BDSM themes


**Author's Note: Hopefully this doesn't start to get confusing, but I call him both Dean Ambrose and Jon Moxley in this story. You'll see why. **

CM Punk paced the floor backstage after Monday Night Raw. He lost his championship title. To The Rock, of all people.

_Surely, I work harder than he does._ Punk thought to himself. _I show up to every TV taping, to every house show, to all the autograph signings. He gets to just show up a few times a year and gets rewarded with the title? Fuck off._

Punk was livid. What right did this actor have to just drop on by whenever he wants and get all the glory? Punk started ripping the tape from his wrists and throwing it into the trash, when he saw Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns walking towards him.

"What do you guys want? I'm not in the mood right now." Punk snapped, wanting to just jump in the shower and get back to his bus. What he really needed right now was to dive into one of his favorite comics, Chew, but Dean looked like he had other plans.

"Listen, Punk, I just wanted to tell you that we're sorry shit went down like this, you deserved better than Dwayne ending such a historic reign." Dean said, looking quite sincere. It worried Punk.

"Thanks. I'm gonna go now." Punk picked up his towel and toiletries and headed for the showers, but Dean stopped him.

"Seth, Roman, I'll catch up with you guys at the hotel." Dean stated flatly, staring into Punk's nervous eyes. Seth and Roman shrugged and walked away, leaving Dean alone with Punk.

"Okay Ambrose, seriously what do you want? I'm tired and want to get a shower and get back to my comics. I'm in a bad fucking mood and you're really not helping." Punk stared Dean back down, hoping that Dean would just get to the point or leave him alone.

"Punk, you don't have to act this way with me. We're two of a kind, you and I. Both had our troubled childhoods, both love wrestling more than anything in this world... we understand each other."

Punk nervously shifted his stance and suddenly felt very uncomfortable and slightly exposed in front of Dean, wearing just his revealing tights, and maneuvered his towel in front of him. Dean noticed this and just smirked.

"Don't worry, I just want to talk, I promise. I know you're upset. You're upset that The Rock has just come in and taken everything from you, everything you've worked so hard for. Taking your main event spots, taking your title, taking all the glory, taking everything. Anybody would be upset in your position. But I know how much this is affecting you. Because you're just like me. And I know it would be eating me the fuck up inside, knowing how fucking hard I work and all the sacrifices I made and all the bridges I've burned to the fucking ground to get here."

Punk nodded, still unsure where Dean is going with all of this.

"Punk, if you need anything from me, just know I'll do it. I'll help, anything you need. I consider you to be a really close friend, and mentor, and I just want to help you through this, if you need me." Dean pulled Punk into an awkward hug, as Punk tensed up. The hug lasted a few seconds longer than it probably should have, and when they broke apart Punk was quick to excuse himself to the shower.

"Well, thanks Ambrose, I didn't expect to hear that from you, honestly. I'm okay though, I'll get over it. But really, thanks. I'll let you know, maybe we can hang out sometime. I'm gonna go take my shower though." Punk felt himself blushing and didn't wait for Dean to answer before turning and scurrying to the showers.

Dean smiled to himself, hoping he had laid the groundwork for a nice friendship, or maybe even more, with Punk. They'd always been professionally cordial and friendly, but Dean wanted more. A lot more. Dean sat at home and fantasized about fucking Punk on almost a nightly basis. When he wasn't thinking about fucking Punk, he was thinking about Punk sucking him off. Dean could practically feel Punk's hot mouth stretched around his fat cock, his lip ring rubbing against his shaft with every stroke. It turned Dean on to his very core.

Nobody knew Dean was gay. Not even Dean himself knew, at least he wasn't ready to admit it to himself. He'd tried relationships with women before, but they always just felt so fake and forced. The sex was good, sex is always good, but it was empty. When Dean reached WWE and got put into FCW, he met Punk for the first time. Of course he always knew about him, and had even wrestled his friends Colt Cabana and Bryan Danielson previously, but they had never actually met each other. Dean nearly had to pick his jaw up off of the floor when he first saw what Punk looks like in his skimpy ring attire in person. Punk wrestled him that day at FCW in a great match, hopefully one of many more that they'll have against each other in the future.

Dean had never been so turned on by another man before. Just looking at Punk would get him hard sometimes, it was starting to be a problem. There was another problem though; Dean wasn't even sure Punk was into men. He for sure knew that Punk wasn't gay, he loves women and is not shy to brag about it. But Dean had also heard rumors that Punk was bisexual, or at least very into experimenting with men. Dean quickly realized that he just needed to find out for himself, even if it meant blowing up yet another bridge on the way. Even if it meant blowing up his career on the way.

Dean could only hope that Punk would respond to his advances. Dean decided he was going to take this slow, so he wouldn't scare him off. He'll just be his friend first and see where that takes him.

Punk had taken his shower and was now back in his bus, lounging in bed and reading a comic book. He tried to read it, anyway, but his mind kept floating back to Dean. _That was nice of him... but awkward. And so unlike him._

Punk thought for a moment, does he really know what Dean is like? He's seen him wrestle and he's seen a bunch of his matches on DVD and otherwise, but he really doesn't know anything about the man himself. Who is Dean Ambrose?

Punk decided that the easiest way to learn more about him would be to just Google him and see what comes up. He got on his iPad and started his research, finding absolutely zilch in the way of personal information about his real self. All he could find was his real name, and then just old promos and matches of him as Jon Moxley in the indies. Punk sighed and settled on just rewatching some of the promos. He first watched "I'm Just a Sick Guy" and he remembered why it's one of his absolute favorites, Jon was absolutely insane. You believed that, as Moxley, he was a sadistic sick crazy motherfucker. Punk smiled to himself and watched The Gauntlet, another one of Punk's favorite Moxley promos. Punk's heart ached for the pain of what Moxley went through as a kid, and watching him describe it.

He watched more promos. He watched one where Moxley says he can't feel anything, and then staples his own leg, quickly realizing he can still feel. Then goes on to pull at his fingers with pliers. He watched Moxley get thrown onto thumbtacks and through light tubes and onto glass. He became obsessed with the Jon Moxley he was seeing on his screen, the fucked up, sadistic, scary, mean, crude, abusive, downright insane man. Where was Jon Moxley?

Punk could feel how hard he was, and glanced down at the tent confirming it. He quickly shoved his hand inside his shorts and jacked off, watching Moxley rough up one of his slut managers during a Dragon Gate USA match. He came quickly, unable to hold back as he released in his shorts when Moxley licked Reby Sky.

Punk knew now what he needed from Dean. He needed Jon Moxley.

The whole week, Punk was dying inside because he needed to touch Jon Moxley, he needed Jon Moxley to rough him up, he needed Jon Moxley to cum all over his face and deep inside his ass. Punk had absolutely no free time, however, and any free moment he did have, Dean was always unavailable during. It was now Monday night again, however, and after Raw was done Punk and Dean would have the night to do whatever they wanted.

Punk texted Dean and asked him if he wanted to hang out with him after Raw, and Dean eagerly accepted. The show was over, Punk and Dean took quick showers and met up outside of Punk's bus. Punk smiled at Dean when he saw him, and pulled him in for a quick hug.

"Thank you so much for being here for me, Mox." Punk whispered, making Dean turn his head in confusion.

"What?" Dean asked, not sure if he had heard Punk correctly. Punk just shrugged it off and opened the door to the bus, welcoming Dean on.

Dean quickly forgot the awkward moment and climbed onto the bus with Punk. Shutting the door behind them, Punk directed him to have a seat on the couch.

"Damn, this is a nice fucking bus, Punk, I hope I get these kinds of perks when I'm as big a star as you..." Dean said, taking a seat next to Punk.

Punk smiled. "You know you will, you're gonna be a huge star."

This caused Dean to blush, and quickly change the subject. "So, what do you want to do?"

Punk couldn't wait any longer. He needed this now. Punk closed the gap between them and shoved his lips against Dean's, licking at the crease until Dean opened up so Punk could ravage his mouth. Punk's tongue swirled around Dean's as they deeply kissed. Dean took Punk's lip ring in between his teeth and tugged, causing Punk to moan out loudly.

"Fuck, Mox..." Punk huffed out, quickly ridding himself of his own shirt and starting to work on Dean's.

"Wait, wait, Punk, why do you keep calling me Mox? I go by Dean Ambrose now, I'm not Jon Moxley anymore." Dean had his hands thrown up in front of him, a look of shock and confusion on his face. This certainly wasn't right. This wasn't the Jon Moxley that Punk had gotten to know through the promos. Why was he acting this way?

Punk started to get angry. He grabbed Dean by his shirt collar and threw him up against the wall, pinning him to it. Dean was too shocked and scared to try to struggle to get away.

"Where is Jon Moxley?! Why aren't you Jon Moxley anymore?! Where did he go?!" Punk was screaming right in Dean's face, obviously losing his mind right in front of him.

"What the fuck? Punk, it's a fucking gimmick! Jon Moxley is a fucking gimmick! You of all people should know when you're being worked, I mean fuck, Punk! What is wrong with you?" Dean screamed right back, even more confused than ever.

"No, no! I need, I fucking need that, I need it..." Punk collapsed into sobs, slowly letting Dean go and dropping to the floor.

"Punk, it's okay, tell me, what do you mean?" Dean soothed, just trying to get to the bottom of this.

"I need Jon Moxley. I need to be roughed up and fucked hard by Jon Moxley, I've been jacking off to your Mox promos all fucking week and I just really fucking need to forget about everything and be taken advantage of right now!" Punk cried, his face buried in his hands in shame as he poured his heart out. "I'm just so. Fucking. Done. With everything. With John Cena, with The Rock, with WWE, just fucking everything! You're the only good thing I have going right now and seeing you be all intense and insane like that..."

"I need an Explicit Mox Violence shirt."

Punk sniffled and looked up. "What?"

"If we're going to do this, I need an Explicit Mox Violence shirt. And a pair of black tights. If you want Jon Moxley to fuck you, he'll fuck you."

Punk wiped his eyes and smiled, standing up and putting his shirt back on. "Would you happen to have those things at your hotel? If not I'll fucking sew them myself if we need to."

Dean laughed "Yeah, I have them at my hotel. If we swing by real quick I can grab them."

Punk was already exiting the bus to find the driver to drive them to the hotel. "Do you think Seth and Roman will think something's going on?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm always in and out of our room, they've learned just not to ask anymore."

Punk left and returned with the driver, and soon they were at the hotel. Dean walked into the room and saw that it was empty, save for their things, and there was a note on one of the beds.

**D-**

**We found some companions for tonight, we're staying at their place. Don't wait up for us. Enjoy your much coveted alone time.**

**-S&R**

Dean smiled, things were working out better than expected. He texted Punk the situation, and Punk agreed that they should use the hotel room. Dean told him to knock on the door in 10 minutes.

The longest ten minutes of Punk's life passed, and Punk found himself knocking on Dean's door at precisely the strike of ten minutes. The door opened and Punk's mouth went dry.

Standing in front of Punk in the doorway was Jon Moxley. Wearing an Explicit Mox Violence t-shirt, a black pair of tights that say "Mox" on the side of the front, and even kneepads and boots. His dirty blonde hair was messy and partially covered his eyes. His eyes, which were burning holes through Punk's flesh with their white hot gaze.

Mox grabbed Punk by his shirt and dragged him into the room, pressing him up against the closed door, his hand firmly around Punk's throat.

"From now on you address me as Mox, and you're going to do whatever I say, bitch." Mox sneered at Punk, whose eyes were wide as he could do nothing but listen. "Did you hear me, bitch? What's my name?"

"Jon Moxley... Mox." Punk breathed out, already feeling desperately turned on.

"Just Mox will do, bitch." Mox tightened his grip on Punk's neck and dragged him towards the middle of the room. "Get naked for me. Now." Mox threw Punk to the floor.

Punk was shaking, partially from being so scared, and partially from being so aroused. He stripped down until he was completely nude, bending over seductively while taking off his boxers to show off his ass to Mox. Mox charged forward and spanked Punk repeatedly with no warning, alternating cheeks. Punk tried to squirm away but Mox grabbed him by the waist and held him close, raising his hand and spanking Punk as hard as he could, turning both cheeks a deep rosy red. Mox slipped a finger in between Punk's cheeks and just lightly brushed against Punk's pucker, making a moan escape Punk.

"Turn around so I can see you." Mox said, his voice deep with lust.

Mox released him and Punk turned around, revealing his large erection to Mox.

"Just as I thought, you're a fucking pain slut. No wonder you're a wrestler. Look at you, all hard for me just spanking you like a little boy. Are you a little boy, Punky?" Mox taunted, staring at Punk's cock and smirking. Punk blushed and couldn't respond.

Mox sank to his knees and started stroking Punk's hard cock. "No, you can't be a little boy with a dick like this. You're just a man who wants to be punished with a fat dick in your ass." Punk moaned at the dirty talk and the strokes on his penis. "Do you want me to suck you, slut?"

Punk swallowed and nodded. "Please, Mox, I'll do anything if you suck me off."

"Oh, you'll be doing everything, don't worry." Mox said defiantly, extending his tongue to lightly lick at the beads of precum forming on the head of Punk's cock. Punk felt shivers run down his spine as Mox licked up and down his shaft. "I don't have anything to tie you up, so you're going to have to restrain yourself. Keep your hands down at your sides and don't touch me, if you touch me I stop everything and wont let you cum tonight. So you better not touch me."

Punk whined but agreed to comply, as Mox continued his attention on Punk's thick cock. He slowly took Punk's entire length into his mouth and down his throat, gagging himself slightly, and pulled back, repeating the motion and picking up speed. Punk struggled to keep his hands down at his sides, his nails digging into his palms, but didn't want to risk not being let to climax so he kept obeying. Mox was making it almost impossible for Punk, teasing him by slowing down when he felt Punk starting to get closer to climax, and then speeding up again. Mox continued on like this for what seemed like forever to Punk, a completely pleasurable sexual torture that was making Punk weak in the knees and leaving him breathless.

Mox pulled himself off of Punk and Punk let a whine escape him. Mox popped him in the mouth with a quick right hook and Punk looked at him, stunned. Mox shrugged and pulled Punk in for a rough kiss, Punk's lip now bleeding as Mox sucked on it, licking all the blood from him and moaning into Punk's mouth. Mox pushed Punk backwards abruptly, making him fall onto the bed behind him. He threw his Explicit Mox Violence shirt off, pulled his tights down to his thighs, and climbed on top of Punk, rubbing their leaking erections together. Both men moaned as they ground their dicks into each other, Mox restraining Punk's wrists above his head with his hands. They made out furiously as they rutted against each other.

Mox lifted himself off of Punk and forcefully turned him over onto his stomach. "You wanted Jon Moxley to fuck you? You fucking fool. You have no idea what you're asking of me."

Mox got up and went to a bag in the corner of the room, removing some things and hiding them from Punk's view. He settled behind Punk on the bed again, placing one of the items down on the plush covers just our of Punk's line of sight. He held the other, a thick, long pink dildo, in his hand, and gingerly started to poke at Punk's unprepared hole with it. Punk gasped and quickly whipped his head around trying to see what was going on. "What is that?!"

Mox just spanked Punk as hard as he could on his already tender cheeks, making Punk cry out. Mox crawled over in front of Punk and showed him the dildo. "This is going in your ass, and I'm going to fuck you with it. You're not getting any lube. But you can suck on it first to try to moisten it up for your tight little asshole." Mox shoved the dildo into Punk's mouth, not waiting for an answer. Punk eagerly went down on the dildo, allowing Mox to fuck his face with it, the saliva dripping from Punk's mouth and tears coming from his eyes as his mouth stretched around the thick dildo.

Mox ripped the dildo from Punk's mouth with an audible pop, and moved back behind him again. He spat hard on Punk's waiting hole, and then roughly inserted the dildo, not giving Punk any time to adjust as he started fucking him with it. Punk screamed and tried not to cry as he felt himself being stretched wider and wider by the dildo. Mox buried it in deep and pulled it almost all the way back out, plunging it back inside of Punk repeatedly. The pain soon faded away for Punk and lead itself to only pleasure, Punk soon starting to back himself up on the dildo. Mox struck him on the ass again, and reached for the other item he had gotten from the bag. A razor blade.

Mox had slowed the thrusts with the dildo until he was completely still, and left the dildo as far inside of Punk as it would go. "Keep that inside your ass," Mox warned him. Mox pulled Punk up by the waist so that he was on his knees, his face flat on the bed, his ass high up in the air on display. Punk kept his muscles clenched, keeping the dildo inside of him. He feared what Mox would do if he let it slip out.

Mox held the razor blade against Punk's right asscheek, Punk too high on pleasure to feel it. Mox started slicing into Punk's ass, carving those three letters that Punk loved so much right into his skin. Punk screamed, but stopped himself from jumping or jerking, knowing that whatever Mox was doing could severely hurt him if something went wrong.

"WHATTHEFUCKAREYOUDOING-" Punk exclaimed through heavy breathing, Mox not answering. Punk soon dissolved into moans as Mox started fucking him with the dildo again, while feeling his blood run out of the cuts on his cheek. His blood started dripping down his thighs and onto the sheets below him. The sight of all that bright red blood dripping from Punk's ass and getting all over everything changed something in Mox.

Mox slapped the cuts on Punk's ass and Punk cried out, tears springing to his eyes as his hole was still being ravaged by the dildo. Mox smeared some of Punk's blood on his hard cock and lined himself up with Punk's entrance, sliding his head in alongside the dildo, spreading Punk more wide open than he's ever been before. Punk couldn't even form words to protest at this point. Mox pulled the dildo almost completely out, and shoved his cock balls-deep into Punk's open hole. Mox would then alternate fucking Punk with his dick and the dildo, making sure that there was never a moment where Punk wasn't filled with delicious cock, or cock substitute. Punk was in continuous moans, biting and gripping the sheets. Mox spanked Punk a few more times, making sure to strike him right on his cuts, and licked the blood from his palm as he listened to Punk's whimpers and whines.

Mox was getting close, and could feel from Punk's ass pulsing around him that Punk was almost there too. "Get yourself off while I fuck you, bitch." The dildo and Mox's cock were applying constant pressure to Punk's prostate at this point, making Punk's knees quiver beneath him. "You better cum when I do. Come on, Punk, cum for me. Cum for Jon Moxley." Mox ripped the dildo out and started fucking Punk with everything he had. With a few more brutal thrusts, Mox went rigid inside of Punk, stilling balls-deep inside of him and biting down on his neck as he filled Punk's ass with his seed. Mox moaned Punk's name as he came, "Punk, please, cum for me, now."

Punk came right after Mox, feeling his hot seed flood his ass and start dripping down his thigh. He exploded into his fist and onto the sheets below him, the bed now a big bloody and cum-filled mess.

Mox immediately went into the bathroom, and when he came back out a short minute later, he was Dean again, washing himself off with a washcloth. He walked over to Punk and started cleaning him up as well, the softness in his eyes reflecting his true feelings for Punk. Punk felt so grateful that Dean would do this for him and clean him up afterwards.

"Mox... Dean. Thank you. I really needed that. You're amazing, you know? The way you can jump in and out of character like that. Pure talent." Punk was still trying to catch his breath and return down to earth. Dean smiled as he lightly cleaned up Punk's most sensitive areas, and cleaned the cuts on his rear end. "Hey that reminds me... what the fuck did you carve into my ass?"

"'Mox' of course. So you'll never forget who owns that sweet ass." Dean laughed as he applied some first aid cream to the wounds. "When I'm in the moment, I'm in the moment, so, sorry about that."

"No, no, don't apologize... I loved that." Punk smiled and sat up to face Dean, hissing when sitting on his bottom, making Dean laugh more. "You really did a number on me. I guess that's what I get for asking for the 'Street Dog', though."

"I fucking hate that name, don't call me that."


End file.
